10/10/2017- 3, 024

Chapter 6

Little Piece of Heaven

(2 years ago)

June 5, 2005

He was late.

This never happened.

"What took you so long," had been Jonathan's greeting when I had arrived late the first and last time.

"I just had to get my dad some pistachio nut, god he has been having so many cravings lately-"

"I don't care," was Jon's reasonable reaction, motioning for my bag of goodies, "no excuses."

"Yes, dad," I dropped myself before him, opening my things for his hungry eyes.

"What did you bring, good," he took them all out, his tantrum over, because he was so reasonable where food was involved.

"Pistachio nut ice cream," he read aloud the new food, I smiled cheekily at him, and we both learned that was not his favorite.

Thank goodness for strawberries.

I sighed to myself curious to what was keeping him. If he was any other person I would have been worried, but I wasn't.

He could take care of himself just fine.

"What the hell is that?"

"Deer," he said flippantly, Milk, Bread, it's just Deer hunny, fresh from the forest.

I imagined him saying this to his lovely wife, dropping the dead dear he had carried over his shoulders on the kitchen table, blood, guts, and all. She would be patiently waiting for him, a good Shadowhunter broodmare. The woman's face remained blurry, thank god, or I would have socked her for taking Jon away from me.

I pretended not to be impressed, "What the hell are you a caveman now?"

"You would like that," he took off his bloody shirt, successfully shutting me up, and showing off his aroused pecs, and sweaty muscled stomach, dear Lord Jesus, "We could have a decent conversation," he wiped his face with the dirty shirt, "like how your place is to be gatherer while I provide and- what is wrong with your face?"

Was he so naive to the fact that he had a very well-formed... everything, damn it was hard to look away, "I bit my tongue," yeah from watching you. She prayed that he never notice the instant affect he had on female population..

In the meantime I was enjoying myself too much to care about trivial things such as lateness. I lay in the middle of an open field. Lukewarm sun pulsated on my open neck, chest, bare outstretched arms and legs. It felt good, not uncomfortable. My hair fell around in a corn yellow halo around my head. The strands tickled my forehead as the breeze tumbled along the long grass. I crossed my bare legs tapping the air to the sound of the whoosh whoosh of the wind.

"Jonathan."

"Yeah," he breathed out as we lay in the grass, we were trying out meditation, but of course- that was like ten minutes ago.

"What do you think about to relax?"

"Decapitation. Castration. and the thought of your mouth falling off," he said easily, and I giggled.

"No, stop playing with me. Tell me the truth, stop lying."

"I am not," he said breathing calmly, " you heard of the Reign of Terror."

"Sure," I knew where he was going, "what are you Robespierre or something?"

"Oh he would wish to be me," he said gladly stretching out some more, "relax Sera, calm your mind."

"I can't," not when he was there.

Without him, waiting, in their field, it felt like my soul could fly, "The wind was gently touching the grass," my voice carried out across the empty field, "We were so young, so fearless.

Then I dreamt o'er and over, of you holding me tight under the stars.

I made a promise to my dear lord, I will love you forever."

It was such beautiful song, and my voice did it a bit of justice. It was not only athletic tournaments I went to, but musicals as well. Surprising Fact: If I was a mundane, I would sing, I mean be a singer. A musician at a bar singing to my lover in one of the seats. I hummed the rest entranced with the nature that surrounded me, and thoughts of muscled arms holding me close. They could only be one person's arms. It was surprising how my fantasies were getting clearer and clearer every week, and I was not sure that it was healthy. He could never bring himself to become like that with me, and I knew it. That did not mean my hormones did.

We sat really close one time, legs touching legs, leaning against against a tree, "Your humming again."

"Sorry," I stopped, flicking myself for forgetting where I was.

"Why?"

"It bothers you."

"No," he swallowed the grilled meat I had prepared for him, "I don't mind it."

"So you like it?"

"I didn't say that either," he ripped another piece of his meat with his pearly white teeth, eating it like an animal, "its'shushyousoundokay."

"You're talking with food in your mouth again."

He swallowed, "You sound okay," he added, "I like when you sing the one about the phantom."

"The Phantom of the Opera," I blushed, that was my favorite too, "okay which one?"

He had several, and that made me excited to practice for him.

That was when I knew it was okay to hum. Especially sing. Sometimes I caught him smiling when I sang one of the songs on the radio, and it was far better than hearing myself monologue. At least this way we both could enjoy ourselves.

If I made no noise, and lay very still I knew that the grass would envelop me into it's own song of nature, that here and now and I could become one with it. But I was human, so that meant I had to eat sometime. Where was he? The food was getting cold...

I heard a branch crack, and I leaned up my calm frame of mind evaporated.

"Jon?"

It couldn't be someone from the city. It was too far for anyone to roam for sport or pleasure.

"Jon, is that you?"

No answer. I thought it was an animal, and I placed my hand on my seraph blade prepared to fend myself. But it was no animal, and I smirked at my late companion.

"You kept me waiting," and all I got was bend of the head from him.

He was memorable. His cropped hair that was an extremely platinum blond, contrasted against my hair, his dark orbs that usually friendly on occasion were blank in contemplation, and his handsome lips were scrunched as if he had tasted something sour. Jon was in a bad mood.

"Are you okay," another nod.

I gave him a warm smile as he sat beside me, but his bruised eyes meant that he was fighting to stay awake. I offered him some strawberries, patiently aggravated when he kindly refused with a flick of his wrist. His demeanor betrayed nothing, and I knew something was wrong. I would have to force it out of him if I ever wanted to know. If he had it his way we would never talk. But we would see.

"Well," I started, "I learned a new technique?" That would usually whet his mood for conversation, but he remained unresponsive.

Today he just seemed like he needed some down time.

"Okay," I mumbled.

He brought his knee up, and looked out in front of him pondering something troubling by the looks of it. How did he do that? How can he look so good-looking even when he was pissed off? I did a look over, especially when he is pissed off. The past five years he had matured, and got muscle in all the right places. I still can't believe that we were fifteen, and our training was coming to a close. Eight years was more than enough to become a trained Shadowhunter. I bet Jon was ready the day he was born.

It wasn't fair; men were so much better built for battling than the female physique. He knew that it made me jealous.

He knew I was checking him out, and he lifted up one eyebrow.

I ducked my head at being caught, "Okay, I get it no staring," I took another bite out of the strawberry.

It seemed that some people were endowed with awesome genetic traits and others for being grand conversationalist. That is just the way it is. Sometimes I wished he noticed I was a girl, instead of just a talking chatterbox. It didn't help that he was a good listener.

Sometimes I needed to just shut up for once.

I respected that.

I wasn't feeling selfish to tell him about Aline Penhallow's birthday coming at the end of June, that Adam' girlfriend might or might not be cheating with him, or the fact that I had won another round of awards for the Alicante Demon Marathon. I felt like gloating to every person I came across. Though I doubted he was up to hearing that about. His opinion on such tournaments was that it was prematurely childish, and detrimental when dealing with the Shadow World.

I took a page out of his book, and just sat there to my own thoughts.

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and got comfortable; he would talk when he was ready.

So I waited,

And waited,

And waited a little more,

And before I knew it I fell asleep.

I woke up feeling sticky and sweaty, both that were not sexy unless Jon liked that type of stuff. The sun was about to set which would have frightened me when I was younger, but I knew these forest like the back of my hand. Gone was the ten year old that had almost lost her foot. Now we were best friends, more so after all the conversations we shared. We watched the sun set on the horizon disappearing behind the trees, and streaming through while it made its descent.

It was amazing how much you understood people when you chose just to remain silent, and experience being alive with another person. I looked at him from the side of my eye, and I was in awe of his handsome features, but more importantly how powerful his gaze could be. I sighed, and he caught my eye. I gave a half smile, and he just turned back to the sunset his platinum hair had an orange glow. I noticed that mine did also.

"Hey Jon, we have orange hair," he shushed me.

"Watch," he reminded me, and I did catching the last light of the day. Another day gone and another to come.

If this was a romance movie I would have leaned into him, but Jon would kill me if I touched him when it was unnecessary. He had touch issues, and I had come to terms with it a while ago.

"Do you imagine" he licked his lips, "the millions of other people that are watching the same sunset, and if they stop for just one moment to stop thinking," we were silent except for our breathing, "they will understand what it means to be truly alive."

Where does he come up with this? Golden. I wish for the same too, never fully realizing it. Can he read my mind or something? I don't believe in fate, but when I think of Jon, and the field that we spend every Sunday, I can't help but feel like it is. Like I am meant to, my purpose is to spend every Sunday for the rest of my life coming here and watching the sunset with him, and that would be enough.

That this little field, is our own little piece of heaven.

At least that is how I about our sanctuary away from home.

"I don't know," the light left the sky, and we were left in shadows, "But I think if they heard you they would."

"You have too much faith in me."

"Or I see you for who you are," I answered. That is when he looked at me. Not with disgust, disappointment, or scorn, but something new. I liked this look, as if he was surprised that I was here, out of all the people in the world I wanted to get to know him. It was like when he did open up, when he felt safe enough to share, when he was brave enough to let me see the Jon that I had come to appreciate beyond words.

It was like he was flowering before my eyes, captivating, "Who is that, may I ask?"

"The boy that saved a girl," is where I started, "I was a complete stranger, and you did it anyways. I don't know about you but that sounds selfless to me. If the roles were reversed I don't think I would have had the strength to do what you did. You are strong and selfless Jonathan, and that is a person worth listening to."

"You are demented into an illusion," he sighed, the special look was gone now, and I could not understand why, "you could have sufficed with the last sentence."

That was just plain rude, so Jonathan of him, "You are also an asshole, but if it wasn't for your listening then I would not put up with you," he made me so angry. I open up to him, and he always shots me down like some dimwit fool.

"Now that sounds like a more reasonable answer."

"Whatever, for the record you are both."

In the shadows there was a sense of privacy, and I had never been afraid of the dark so this was a relaxing experience for me.

Sitting next to Jon would have calmed in all the problems of my life. If I had to stand in front of the Council again for my crimes, for telling my trainer I did not study the next Shadowhunter wars, or against bloodthirsty Greater Demons Jon could make it through anything. I think some moments he seemed untouchable or unstoppable when it came to any challenge. He would be a demon at the Academy, taking down all competition, and giving everyone a run for their money, especially me. He knew it. I knew it, but I found it such a waste.

"It's the truth Jon," I say evenly, "you are worth following, especially when you're not mean or shoving your greatness in other people's faces."

The Almighty bless me, his stubbornness and competitive side was going to be his downfall.

"For the record," he copied me, "I thank you."

I gasped, "Wow, did you just thank me?"

"I am capable of showing gratitude." His nose wrinkled, and I could tell I offended him.

"It's just the first time I heard you say it."

"I don't say something unless I mean it," he said outright. He sounded so complete when he said that, and I was a little jealous at how assured he was of himself. I had to give myself a pep-talk before stepping out the front door, but Jon knew himself, and that was what made him darn so attractive.

"I say everything I am thinking," I tried to lighten the mood, "no fliter, just word vomit." Stupid, stupid, stupid, now you sound like a complete moron, I thought.

"I have noticed," he stretched back and pushed himself off the ground.

I noticed this was about the time that he had to leave.

He nudged me to tell me he was leaving, and I couldn't help but frown.

He leaned down to my ear, "I hope you enjoyed your sleep," his voice was deep and my body shivered.

I groaned in frustration. I was upset that the whole Sunday I had with him was wasted because I decided to go pantry stealing with Adam last night. Damn, my traitorous body had to fail me when it came to Jonathan.

"I know what you are going to say it is my entire fault. But I had a good reason this time, last night was kind of busy," I tried explaining.

He dusted off his black pants, and strutted away the same way he came. I had a wonderful view, and I suddenly felt like the pervy boyfriend, which was becoming commonplace now. I had never done this before, and I was dismayed to think that this would ruin our little rendezvous Sunday thing-mahbob we had going.

I scratched my bed hair, "So, next Sunday?"

He would probably ditch me for the rest of the summer, and I felt like I deserved it after my little stunt.

He turned around, and I thought he was going to give me one of his signature frowns, but instead he turned around and blinked one eye at me. I felt my mouth slacken, and my heart race.

I stood up almost tripping over myself, "Did you just wink at me Jonathon Christopher?" I yelled after him.

He chuckled, "Goodnight, Seraphina."

I blushed not because of his attempt at flirting, but because he had said my name, my full name in that dark baritone, and that was by far the sexiest thing I had heard in my life.

I swooned.

"What is wrong with your face," my father asked when I returned to his house instead of Amatis house. His was always closer and so I usually crashed in my old room, the one bed that I could not fit in, and dreamt in my post-Jonathan haze. It had become a ritual of mine, and come Monday I was preparing for the next Sunday like a tradition worth following.

"Stop doing that," my father saw the way my eyes were dazed, my hands cleaning the same plate twice, "you are creeping me out kid."

I could not stop laughing, "I just bit my tongue Dad!"

He did not believe me, and I could not blame him.

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